A Runner’s Dream

I sense the sheen which glistens on the street,
the path that pulls my spirit through the dark.
Reflections of the bottoms of my feet
form momentary ripples where they mark
the light of timeless memories of grace,
deserving of impressions deeper still
than anything my memories replace
with lightness which my feet and legs fulfill.
I sense the time it takes to press and glide
against reflections, silent as the moon,
which lay upon the mirror where I stride,
revealed to morning reverie too soon.
I sense the sheen again before I run
beyond the dawn into the morning sun.

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